


blood on a rose

by buenaspalabras



Series: Under Red Lights We Meet [2]
Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, I see red sequel (sort of?), Jealousy, Lesbian Sex, MAJOR Fluff like when did I get so soft, Only a little jealousy but I couldn't leave it out, Summer Vacation, Teasing, Wives, Zurena being tourists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buenaspalabras/pseuds/buenaspalabras
Summary: Macarena wants to see more of the world. Zulema is a little hesitant. They miraculously come to an agreement and go anyway; six countries and multiple months later, they realize that this has definitely been the best decision of their lives.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Series: Under Red Lights We Meet [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132286
Comments: 29
Kudos: 97





	1. travel plans and goodbye parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I heard that the “I see red” song has a sequel called "blood on a rose", I immediately knew what I wanted to do. So, here it is. Not an official sequel, but a simple two chapter fic set in the I see red universe. All of this takes place after the epilogue of I see red. The title doesn't have anything to do with the plot, by the way, I just chose it because it's also the sequel to the song. ✨
> 
> And please excuse the cheesy song choice halfway through this chapter. Not stolen from ftcol or any other fic, I just really liked it and wanted to use it. This is just short and more of a gift to you than something with an actual plot. I hope you enjoy it anyway. ✨🖤

* * *

_Not even a flower in bloom could be as beautiful as you_

_When you look at the stars in the midnight blue_

_Then you turn to me and I realize anew_

_That no one will love you as much as I do_

* * *

“I want to travel the world,” Macarena says over dinner on a random Thursday. She’s just gotten back home from her eight-hour shift at Libertad and joined Zulema, who was waiting for her at home. “I’ve been in Spain all my life, aside from a few holidays to France, and I feel like I haven’t seen anything yet.” 

Initially, Zulema is reluctant to agree to the blonde’s plan. Everything is perfectly fine here in Madrid; she feels at home in her city, with Macarena and Saray and everything she loves right around the corner. It has taken her long enough to settle down and find a real home and she doesn’t want to give that up. So, why should she leave?

“We’re not leaving forever,” Macarena reassures her, when she notices that Zulema has stopped eating and is now simply staring at her fork with spaghetti. “I just want to go away for a few months.”

Zulema looks up to meet light green eyes. “A few months seems pretty long to me,” she replies.

“We left Madrid for our honeymoon too, remember?” Maca mentions.

Right after they had gotten married, they went to Málaga, in the very south of Spain. Just the two of them in a penthouse with sea views, because Zulema wanted to be near the beach. Macarena just wanted to be near Zulema. 

“That was one month,” the older woman counters. 

Macarena reaches over the table with right hand to take the brunette’s left in hers. Their fingers automatically lace together and Zulema feels a pleasant tingle run up her arm and settle in her chest. It calms her down. 

“We’re not leaving forever,” Macarena repeats, her eyes finding Zulema’s. “I just want to go for a few months. With you. To wherever we want to go. We can sit and write down countries we want to visit.” 

“Like a list?” Zulema asks. 

“Yeah,” the blonde replies. “If that’ll make you feel more secure. I know a few countries I want to go to. Maybe you can think about yours and once we know, we can start planning things.” 

* * *

Zulema needs a few days to get used to the idea and Macarena knows that, so she gives her some time. The brunette will come to her when she’s ready. Of course it happens in the middle of the night, something Macarena isn’t very happy about, but she’ll take it.

The blonde has developed a sixth sense for Zulema waking up. She's still a heavy sleeper, but she instinctively knows when the brunette gets out of bed. Now, it's only three AM when Macarena feels the bed dip slightly. She opens her eyes just in time to see Zulema put on a sweatshirt, before the brunette tiptoes to the door.

"Where are you going?" Macarena questions, her voice rough from sleeping. 

The older woman turns around, not even surprised that the blonde has woken up. “I’m making my list.” 

“Your what?”

“My list. For our trip,” Zulema replies, hand movements accompanying her words. 

Macarena yawns. “Now? It’s the middle of the night.” 

“Yes,” Zulema says. Her hand reaches for the door knob. “I’m fine, _rubia._ Go back to sleep.” 

Macarena wants to protest, but exhaustion is taking over her entire body again and she’s too tired to stay awake until the brunette comes back. “ _Vale,_ ” she mumbles as she rolls over and pulls the covers over her shoulders. 

* * *

They compare their list of countries two days later, on Saturday afternoon, sitting in the sun on their roof terrace. It turns out they’re absolutely not on the same page. Not even one country on their list is the same. 

Not surprisingly, Zulema wants to go to Egypt. Morocco, Greece and Croatia are the other three countries on her list. 

Macarena’s list is longer. She starts off with Portugal, Monaco, Italy and Sweden. Then, she changes continents and wants to go to Brazil, Argentina and Peru. She finishes with Indonesia and specifically Bali. 

“Portugal I can live with,” Zulema starts. “But Sweden? Really? I’m going to freeze to death.” 

“It’s not that cold if you don’t go all the way up to the north,” Macarena counters. 

When Zulema shrugs in response, almost as if she’s having second thoughts about all of this, Macarena decides to observe her for a while. She watches as Zulema scans the pieces of paper and her gaze lingers on her own, before looking at Maca’s list again. It's almost as if Zulema knows how badly Macarena wants this, but she herself just can’t shake off the feeling of leaving home. 

Maybe some countries are too far, Macarena realizes. The brunette said she doesn’t like being far away from home, now she’s finally found one. 

“We don’t have to go to South America if you don’t want to,” the blonde offers gently. “I want you to like this as well.” 

Zulema tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at her wife. It still feels absolutely insane to call Macarena her _wife,_ but she’s trying to get used to it. She got used to the word girlfriend too, so it should work eventually. 

“I don’t want to go too far,” Zulema confesses. 

“Okay,” Macarena replies immediately. She leans over the armrest and kisses the brunette on the lips, before turning to their lists. “How about this; we start in Portugal and then go to Morocco, Egypt, and Greece. We can finish in Italy and Monaco, so we won’t be far away from home at all.” 

The look in Zulema’s eyes changes, Macarena can see it happening. The brunette’s expression goes from nervous and unsure to appreciative and definitely head over heels in love with the young blonde next to her. 

“Deal.” 

The blonde smiles. She kisses Zulema’s cheek this time and takes the pieces of paper from her, before getting up from her chair with the intention of getting them some cold drinks from inside. Their roof terrace is connected to the living room with sliding doors and they usually have these open in the summer, making the outside space almost feel like an extension of their living space. 

“I’ll buy you a ticket to Bali for your birthday,” Zulema mentions as Macarena steps over her legs on her way inside.

The blonde throws a dazzling smile over her shoulder. “I would love that,” she answers, already halfway to the kitchen. “Look at you being all nice to me today.” 

“A one-way ticket it is, then!” Zulema calls after her in response.

“Shut up!” It immediately sounds from inside the flat. 

* * *

A few days after, Macarena has a conversation with her manager at Libertad to talk about her plans and they decide that she can take some time off. The blonde has been working at the club for many years and although she’s a very valued employee, everyone understands that she wants to leave for a few months to be with Zulema. 

However, this means that she’ll be leaving the club, her friends, her second home. Macarena decides that she can’t do that without throwing a goodbye party. Katia helps her with the organization and they make sure to plan it on the last Saturday before Maca leaves. Zulema is invited as well, obviously. 

Saturday is always a busy day, but it’s even busier now everyone knows Macarena is leaving for a few months. Clients and employees, both on and off duty, come by to celebrate, have a few drinks and wish the blonde a good time on her trip. Zulema spends most of her time at the bar with her usual shot of tequila, while Macarena busies herself with saying goodbye to everyone - continuously mentioning that she’ll only be gone for a few months - and getting new drinks for them. Not that Zulema minds, though, because she’s perfectly content with just sitting here and watching. She occasionally talks to Katia when that one isn’t helping clients.

“ _Hola, amor,_ ” Macarena appears out of nowhere and places a quick kiss on Zulema’s lips, before resting both hands on the brunette’s thighs and looking her in the eye. “I have a surprise for you.” 

Zulema takes in her wife’s appearance; long blonde locks spilling over her shoulders, a little makeup, a simple black dress and low heels. Fucking gorgeous. 

“And what may that be?”

“Just wait and see,” Macarena winks. “Keep a close eye on the stage, though.”

With that, she turns around and disappears into the crowd again. 

Zulema looks at Katia, but that one simply shrugs. She’s not going to say anything, so the brunette has no other choice but to sit and wait. 

Exactly five minutes later, the lights in the club dim and those on stage light up. The crowd notices the change immediately and goes relatively quiet, except for a few hushed conversations here and there and some people cheering at the idea of a surprise act. 

The curtains on the left side move and the crowd starts to make some noise, until they see who’s walking onto the stage. 

It’s Macarena.

The crowd goes wild now. The cheers from all sides are almost deafening; Zulema generally hates it when people yell for no reason, but decides that this time it’s allowed. They’re looking at the most gorgeous woman on the planet, after all. 

Zulema leans on the edge of the bar and focuses on Macarena, admiring how beautiful her blonde looks, as the first notes of a song start to play. Zulema waits for other girls to join on stage for what will probably be another dance, striptease, or whatever it is Maca always does here. But the other girls don’t come. 

The brunette frowns. She has absolutely no idea what’s going on and only notices what Macarena is holding in her hand when the blonde brings it to her lips.

And starts to sing.   
  


_"You lean on the edge of the bar_

_And you look at me with such eyes_

_And what if it’s a dream?_

_You pass by me and say hello_

_Your smile is like a little girl_

_Is this a crime?_

_When you touch my hand_

_And I feel the sky_

_And I’m wondering if this is a crime."  
  
_

Zulema is in awe. Sure, the blonde sometimes sings when she’s in the shower and - much to the brunette’s frustration - when she’s cooking. However, she’s always singing along with the music, so Zulema has never gotten the chance to fully realize how beautiful Macarena’s voice is.   
  


_"And then I pass behind_

_And it’s a game they told me not to play_

_And then you kill my doubts, saying smile."  
  
_

The blonde flashes a cheeky smile in the direction of Zulema. She doesn’t know exactly where the brunette is, because the lights on stage are shining in her eyes and she can’t see past the fourth row of people, but that doesn't really matter. Zulema will know.

She continues, finally at the part where the drums support her voice.  
  


_"Then my eyes just said go on_

_And my back could feel the cold_

_Then you take off all my clothes."  
  
_

The events of the past years flash behind Zulema’s eyes like a short movie. From when she entered this club, to meeting Macarena, to sleeping with her, to now. To this moment right here, where she’s watching the blonde - her _wife_ , mind you - performing on stage.   
  


_"And this is, baby this is, oh this is a crime_

_And I start to cry_

_Is this a crime?"  
  
_

A trance. That’s how the entire performance feels to Zulema. Macarena is all there is and all she can focus on. It’s only at the end of the song, when the lights come back on and the crowd starts yelling, cheering and clapping, that Zulema slowly falls back into the real world. 

“You’re really lucky,” Katia mentions, leaning over the bar. “Macarena is amazing.” 

Zulema turns to the blonde bartender, the first person she got to know here in Libertad. “Yeah,” she replies. “I know.” 

The brunette watches as her wife makes her way off the stage and through the crowd. She’s approached by almost everyone and it takes at least ten minutes before she’s even remotely close to Zulema. 

Then, Zulema’s attention is drawn to a young brunette, probably around Saray’s age, who wraps an arm around Macarena and kisses both of her cheeks. They get wrapped up in a conversation and Zulema feels her cheeks flush as the young brunette puts her hand on Maca’s hip, slightly pulling her closer. She’s obviously flirting.

Macarena, on the other hand, knows exactly what’s happening. She also knows that Zulema is looking at her from her usual spot at the bar, because she can feel those eyes on her all the time. So, Macarena lets the young brunette in front of her try her chance at flirting while she makes eye contact with her wife.

Zulema looks mildly impressed, but her cheeks are flushed and she’s bouncing her leg. That’s all Maca needs to know. She turns her attention back to the woman in front of her and reaches out for her blouse, feeling the material between her fingers.

“Nice outfit,” she compliments. The brunette smiles, a bright and beautiful smile that obviously doesn’t go unnoticed by Zulema. “Thank you,” the woman answers and reaches out for Macarena’s dress, doing the exact same thing.

This is exactly what the blonde was going for. She’s provoking her wife by doing this and she knows that very well. It’s not enough to make her mad, but just enough to get her slightly irritated. The sex they’ll definitely have after this will only benefit from that. 

Macarena waits a few more minutes before she excuses herself, telling the younger brunette that she has an appointment with someone and that she’ll find her later. She won’t, but the other woman doesn’t know that. 

She finally arrives at the bar.

“Hi,” she greets Zulema. 

That one takes a sip of her drink, a slightly playful but definitely dangerous expression on her face. 

“It looked like you were enjoying yourself there, _rubia._ ” 

“I was,” Macarena replies. And then, to provoke her even more. “She’s pretty.” 

Zulema jumps off the bar stool, standing to her full height. Her wife is wearing heels, though, so they're the same height today. 

“Why don’t you fuck her then? If you think she’s pretty?” Zulema counters. It’s just a game between the two of them, but she can’t help feeling a little jealous. Macarena notices, of course. It’s the look in the brunette’s eyes. 

“Sexy,” Macarena comments. She looks Zulema up and down, her eyes roaming over every inch of her body. She hasn’t had enough time tonight to appreciate her wife’s outfit; black skinny jeans and a see through, mesh top with red flames on it. 

“ _Cómo?”_

“I said,” Maca leans in until their lips almost touch, and she’s surprised that Zulema is letting things get this far with her current attitude. “That you’re sexy when you’re jealous.” 

Zulema makes the last move and presses their lips together. It’s rough, but not enough to draw attention. She’s also the first to pull back and look into Maca’s light green eyes. They stare at each other in silence, words passing between them without having to speak. 

Macarena is the first to make the actual move. She slips her hand into Zulema’s and pulls the brunette with her, throwing a wink at Katia who’s been watching the interaction between the two women. 

Room 105 isn’t far away. Maca walks inside first and gets on the bed immediately, while the brunette closes the door behind them. Once more, they find themselves here. 

Zulema doesn’t walk towards the bed. She walks over to the chair in the corner, sits down, and demonstratively crosses her arms. 

“I’m not touching you.” 

Macarena tilts her head, considering. If this is how Zulema wants to play it, she might just as well play along. She shifts upwards until her back hits the headboard and leans back, getting comfortable. Her legs are crossed at the ankles and her eyes meet Zulema’s. 

“What are you going to do, then? Watch?”

Zulema frowns. “Watch what?” 

“Watch me touch myself.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Zulema replies, although there’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice. Years ago, when Zulema got jealous, Macarena would let the brunette have her right away. Now, she fights back. If Zulema pretends that she isn’t going to touch her, Macarena will do it herself. 

“No?” the blonde counters innocently. “Alright.” She uncrosses her legs and spreads them without even the slightest hint of hesitation. Zulema’s breath quickens, but she doesn’t want Macarena to win. So, she remains where she is.

“I’m not touching you. I’ll watch,” Zulema repeats. 

Macarena spreads her legs even more, until the brunette can get a full view of her black lace underwear. The blonde slowly runs one hand up her leg, loving how her wife can’t seem to look anywhere else, and finally reaches the place she wants to be. There’s no time to waste; Macarena is turned on, to say the least, and really fucking desperate. 

She starts teasing herself over her underwear and lets out a gasp at the feeling. Her eyes close on their own accord only to open again a few seconds later, meeting dark green ones on the other side of the room. 

“Still don’t want to touch?” Macarena breathes.

“No.” 

“ _Vale_.” 

Macarena hooks her fingers in the waistband of her panties and pushes them over her hips and down her legs. They pool at her feet and she kicks them off, spreading once more for her wife. She leans back against the headboard and slides her hand up again, further and further, until it glides through warm wetness. Her breath hitches and she tries very hard to hold Zulema’s gaze. 

She draws little circles around her clit, slowly building herself up, and it quickly becomes impossible to stay quiet. A moan slips past her lips and Zulema shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Macarena notices. 

“ _Zulema,_ ” she moans as she pushes two fingers inside. Her head falls back against the headboard at the sensation between her legs. It feels so fucking good. 

On the other side of the room, the brunette is having a really hard time trying to control herself. She watches as Macarena moves her hand; her fingers are glistening with obvious arousal and Zulema has to bite down on the inside of her cheek to make sure a moan doesn’t slip out. 

The blonde’s free hand slides up her body to cup her breast, hidden underneath her dress, and Zulema’s breath hitches. Having Macarena here like this, touching herself only for her to see, makes her feel a little better. There’s no one else Maca would do this with. She better not. 

“Oh god,” Macarena moans as she curls her fingers, searching for that spot Zulema always knows to find within seconds, if she wants to. “ _Yes!”_

The brunette’s heart is racing. She’s itching to touch the blonde, but she’s also very stubborn and doesn’t want to lose this game. Or whatever it is that they have going on. Is it worth it? 

“I’m close,” Macarena manages. 

No, Zulema decides. It’s not worth it. She doesn’t want this to happen; she doesn’t want to be _watching_ as Macarena comes, she wants to be the one who’s _making_ her. Within seconds, Zulema finds herself on the bed and pulls the blonde’s hand away from her center, before pushing it down onto the sheets.

Macarena’s eyes fly open. She flashes a cocky smile.

“Thought you wanted to watch?” 

“Thought you wanted to come?” Zulema counters. Her own fingers slide down and inside of the blonde immediately, drawing a moan from her. 

“Fuck,” Macarena pants. This is what she needed. “You’re good.” 

Zulema grins into her neck. Yes, she’s aware of that. She’s known the young blonde for the better half of a decade now and knows exactly how to play her body and how to get her to the edge. Today is fast, rough, because they don’t have much time and they just _need_ this right now. There’ll be time for softness later. 

Zulema does that thing with her fingers where she curls them up and towards her, while her thumb touches Maca’s clit and draws quick circles. She barely notices when Macarena’s hands wrap themselves around her shoulders; it’s the familiar stinging pain of the blonde’s nails breaking the skin that makes her realize, and Zulema keeps up her pace because she knows Maca is almost there. 

“Come for me,” she murmurs into the blonde’s ear. “ _Now._ ” 

Macarena does. Arched back, parted lips and closed eyes. Although it’s been so long, Zulema still looks at her every single time, if the position allows her to. 

Not even five minutes later, they part ways again. Zulema is going home and Macarena will stay at the party a little longer, to be with her friends and help with the cleaning afterwards. 

“Two more days,” Maca mentions while she’s quickly fixing her hair in the tiny mirror next to the door. “I’m really excited for our trip.” 

Portugal. Morocco. Egypt. Greece. Italy and finally Monaco. Those are the countries they’ll be visiting together during the next few months. The two women have already arranged everything; hotels are booked, apartments are rented, flights and other forms of transport have been taken care of. Now, they only have to wait a few more days until it's finally time to go. 

Zulema comes to stand next to the blonde in the door opening, watching her.

“Yeah,” she mocks, her voice laced with sarcasm. “I can’t wait _._ ” 

The emphasis on the last word makes Macarena roll her eyes.

“With that attitude, I’ll leave you behind at the first airport,” she threatens.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, you should know that by now,” Zulema replies. She reaches into her pocket for her car keys and turns towards the hallway. “I’ll see you at home, _rubia._ ”

“Vale. I think I’ll be back around eleven. Twelve, tops,” Macarena replies. And then calls after the brunette, who’s already on her way downstairs. “Love you!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter (definitely my favorite) will be up **tomorrow**! Tune in to see what our ladies will be doing in all those countries. Same time, same place. 😌


	2. I'd go anywhere with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably waayyy too soft and cheesy, but I couldn’t care less. And yes, I did my research for this chapter, so every place, restaurant or beach that’s mentioned is real. Follow in their footsteps with Google Maps. ✨

They don’t travel too far at first. Their first stop is Lisbon, where they join a pub crawl on the first evening - definitely as the oldest duo - and get impossibly drunk while dancing to the craziest songs. Or Macarena dances, rather, and Zulema stays a little to the side and leans against the wall while she watches her blonde have fun on the dance floor. A drunk Macarena is very cute. Annoying, but adorable. 

They visit Castelo de São Jorge the next day. Zulema is constantly complaining, because Macarena decides they’re going to walk up the very steep hill in the burning sun. When they reach the top, however, and Macarena takes her wife’s hand in hers as they look at the stunning view of the city, Zulema couldn’t care less about the walk anymore. 

They spend three weeks in the capital of Portugal. They visit all the tourist hotspots and also some hidden places, which they only stumbled upon because they walked in the wrong direction. They have pizza at a restaurant on one of the busiest squares of the city, they rent a car to drive to the nearest beach with and most importantly, they’re together.

The next stop is Morocco. No beach house this time, but an old apartment in Béni-Mellal (بني ملال), a city in the middle of the country. It’s nearly thirty five degrees when they arrive there and the heat is exhausting, to Macarena at least, who falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow. 

The following morning, the young blonde is waiting for Zulema in the living room. It takes a few minutes for her to get ready, but the brunette eventually comes out of their bedroom. Fully dressed, although something is different. She’s wearing a headscarf. 

Macarena frowns. 

“Why are you wearing that?” 

“To fit in,” Zulema answers. Her hands come up to adjust the scarf a little, fingers hooking underneath the fabric, pulling it slightly forward. “And I like it.” 

She really does. It reminds her of her home country, to which they’ll be going in a few days. 

Macarena watches as her wife walks towards the tiny mirror in the living room and looks at herself. The brunette looks different and Maca has never seen her dressed like this, but for some reason it doesn’t look strange. It suits her. 

“Do you have another scarf?” she finds herself asking. 

Zulema does. Without asking further questions, she retrieves it from her suitcase in the bedroom, sits down on the couch next to Macarena and patiently shows the blonde how to wear it. 

They visit Ain Asserdoun, a tourist attraction just outside of the city with amazing views. Macarena takes a thousand photos with the camera Zulema gave her for Christmas years ago; the flowers, the small waterfall in the middle of the garden, the old ruins of a castle, nothing is safe from her and her camera. Not even Zulema, although that one complains and turns her head away from the camera - sadly, just on time - when Macarena tries to take a photo of her, too. 

They have dinner in a modern-looking restaurant where Zulema orders their food in perfect Arabic and Macarena can’t do anything but stare at her in awe. 

That same Arabic comes in handy when they almost miss their flight to Caïro. Zulema somehow manages to get them to the right gate on time by speaking to a security guard in Arabic, who eventually agrees to take them to the other side of the airport for free. Maybe Zulema threatened him, because he looks a little frightened, but Macarena will never know and she doesn’t really care either. She falls asleep again on the plane, with her head on Zulema’s shoulder. The brunette allows it; she simply continues reading her book and hushes the blonde when that one starts to talk in her sleep. 

* * *

Caïro is beautiful. Macarena is secretly thankful for the fact that Zulema wanted to go here, because the blonde wouldn’t have thought of going to this city herself. The two visit Salah Al-Din Al-Ayoubi Castle and walk along the Nile, where they find a nice cafe to have a drink and relax. The next few days are spent outside of the city, in small towns that can only be reached by bus. It gives Zulema the idea of being back home, in those small towns where everyone knows everyone. They’re seen as outsiders, with Maca’s inability to speak Arabic and her bright blonde hair, but when Zulema explains their story, everyone suddenly turns friendly. 

Zulema takes care of everything during the four weeks they’re there. She gets them their bus tickets, she asks the way and even has an enthusiastic conversation with a man selling newspapers on the corner of the street. She wears her headscarf and traditional Egyptian clothing every single day and Macarena couldn't be more in love with her.

The blonde even accepts to wear a long dress Zulema finds for her on a market. It's a long sleeve maxi dress, but the material is soft and thin. Maca normally wouldn’t ever wear this, but the look on Zulema’s face says everything. The brunette sneaks her wife into a bathroom at a restaurant just so she can kiss her safely and tell her how beautiful she looks. Macarena beams. 

On their last evening in Caïro, Zulema sits on the balcony of their rented apartment and looks at the sun setting behind the buildings. The summer heat lingers in the streets, although a soft nightly breeze is slowly starting to blow. It makes everything a little less sweaty and sticky, despite the fact that it’s probably still at least twenty-five degrees in their bedroom. Macarena is taking a shower and Zulema knows she has a few more minutes to herself before her wife comes back. 

She feels at home here in Egypt. The feeling is different from the one in Madrid, though. This is the country where she was born and that creates a special kind of bond. This is the country where she’s seen the most beautiful sunsets, the country where she’s learned a language she loves more than any other language in the world. This is also the country where she had the most difficult years of her life, the country where she learned to survive and stand on her own feet. This country is special. It has made her into the person she is today.

Two familiar arms wrap around her from behind. It’s Macarena, who kneels behind Zulema’s chair and rests her chin on the brunette’s shoulder. 

“We can stay here, if you want,” she offers. “Cancel the trips to the other countries. If you want to stay here for a little longer, we can.” 

Zulema loves Macarena for knowing her so well. 

She shakes her head, though. “No,” she replies. “This was good. We can leave.” 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah. This is where I was born, but it’s not where I want to be anymore.” 

Macarena slides her arms back over the brunette’s shoulders and walks around the chair, before sitting down in Zulema’s lap. Her back against Zulema’s front and Zulema’s arms wrapped around her waist, they sit in silence as the sun disappears behind the buildings and even after that. 

* * *

Greece is next. Zulema and Macarena have rented an apartment in Athens. They spend seven days exploring the city; on the eighth day, they take a ferry to Aegina, an island not far away from Greece’s mainland and capital. Although there aren’t many organized things to do here, Macarena’s tourist guide tells her that the island is perfect for exploring and relaxing at the beach. She decides that’s exactly what she wants to do: relax at the beach. Zulema disagrees at first, but when she realizes that Macarena has been very cooperative this whole trip, she reconsiders. The prospect of seeing the blonde in a bikini also helps. 

They go to Souvala Beach first. It turns out to be the busiest beach of the island and Zulema doesn’t entirely feel comfortable. She keeps her t-shirt on, even when Macarena takes hers off to reveal a light blue bikini. 

The blonde doesn’t give up, though. She finds a second beach that’s supposed to be more quiet. She convinces Zulema to visit the island again and on day nine, they do exactly that. Marathon Beach is definitely less crowded and after a bit of teasing from Maca’s side, the brunette takes off her t-shirt as well. Macarena can’t stop staring. 

After a while, Zulema’s skin is burning and she wants to cool off, so she takes a look at the blonde - Maca is lying with her eyes closed and probably won’t notice her leaving - and gets up from her sunbed. She’s already been in the water for at least ten minutes before the blonde notices and follows her, although she’s much slower than Zulema.

“It’s cold!” Macarena yells from the shore, where the water doesn't reach further than her ankles.

“Stop complaining and get the fuck in here!” Zulema yells back. The blonde takes way too long for her liking, so she swims back towards the shore and stands up, before walking towards Macarena.

“Don’t touch me,” the blonde starts. She’s known the scorpion for long enough to know what’s on her mind. 

“I won’t,” Zulema replies.

“Zulema, I mean it. Don’t touch me.” Macarena takes a step back. “No. Let me do this at my own- _Zulema!”_

Too late. The brunette has already wrapped her arms around the younger woman’s waist and carries her into the sea until the water is deep enough and drops her into the ocean.

“I fucking hate you,” Macarena spits, once she emerges from the water. Her wet hair clings to her shoulders and neck. She still looks gorgeous.

“No, you don’t,” Zulema replies. She dives underwater and swims towards the blonde. Macarena simply looks at her; resistance is futile, running away from Zulema won’t help. If the scorpion wants her, she’s going to get her. 

However, Zulema doesn’t mess with her this time. Instead, once she arrives at her destination, she pulls Macarena’s arms around her own waist and then cups the blonde’s face before kissing her right there, in the middle of the ocean. The sun is burning on their wet skin and their kiss tastes like salt and the mojito cocktail they had half an hour ago, but it’s perfect.

When a quiet moan leaves Maca’s lips, Zulema decides that she wants the blonde right then and there. So, she pulls her down until the water comes up to their shoulders and slips her hand into the blonde’s bikini. Her wife is ready. She always is. 

Zulema draws little circles on wet skin and soft moans from the blonde’s lips. She doesn't enter her though - salt water and bacteria and all - but she doesn't need to. She knows Macarena and her body well enough to make her come anyway. 

Macarena rests her forehead against Zulema’s collarbone and tries to remain fairly quiet; there are barely any people on the beach, but if anyone’s watching them, it has to look like they’re just having a moment to themselves. They are, but not in the way they want other people to know. 

The blonde bites down on the skin closest to her lips to muffle a moan when Zulema touches her _just like that_ and Macarena knows she’s close. 

It only takes a whispered “I love you” from Zulema to come undone. 

* * *

Italy is the second to last country they visit. They go to Rome first, where they have delicious lasagna and take a long walk through Parco degli Acquedotti. Macarena reaches for Zulema’s hand when they’re walking and the brunette allows it, just to see that smile on the blonde’s face. They visit the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain with a huge amount of coins in the water and the Pantheon, where Macarena can’t stop looking at the beautiful ceiling. 

They leave Italy’s capital a little early - although they’ve already spent three and a half weeks there - because Maca really _really_ wants to go to Milan as well. So, they do just that and spend most of their days walking in and out of stores, because the blonde has decided that she wants new clothes. Zulema is dragged into massive shopping centers, smaller clothing stores and “horrendous boutiques” as she calls them. 

As promised, they finish their trip in Monaco. Everything is ridiculously expensive in this country, which is the second smallest one in the world. From their modern hotel room with a separate living room, to the dinner at a five-star restaurant; every time Macarena sees the bill, she feels a little guilty. Zulema doesn’t seem to care. She’s had a great couple of years working together with Ramirez and money is absolutely no problem for her anymore. She tells Macarena exactly that and the blonde seems to relax a little. 

They spend their days going to bed late and waking up even later, despite the light curtains in the hotel room and the sun rising very early. Usually, Zulema wakes up before the blonde does, but today is Macarena’s lucky day. They only have two more days left here in Monaco and she’s in the middle of realizing how much she doesn’t want this trip to end, when Zulema mumbles something in her sleep and rolls over, facing the blonde. 

Macarena has the pleasure of seeing the warm rays of morning sun fall onto Zulema’s face, giving it a soft glow. She simply watches her for a while, until she eventually reaches out and gently strokes the brunette’s cheek.

“ _Amor,_ ” she whispers. “Time to wake up.” 

Zulema doesn’t stir. Macarena leans closer to press a kiss to her forehead. It works. 

“Hm.” 

“We have to get up,” she whispers.

“No.”

Zulema cracks one eye open to look at Macarena, who’s simply staring at her with admiration and love. She closes her eyes again. _Puta rubia._

She, Zulema, is supposed to be the criminal between the two of them, but Macarena is the one who stole her heart.

“You’re cute,” it sounds.

Zulema fully opens her eyes at those words. “Take that back,” she demands.

“No,” Maca responds and presses their lips together instead. She feels how Zulema instantly relaxes and her hand wraps around the blonde’s waist. 

Macarena almost can’t hold back a laugh and pulls back enough to whisper against parted lips. 

"I love how weak you get for me." 

Zulema starts to protest immediately, but the blonde shushes her by pressing their lips together again. 

"I'm not weak," Zulema manages to say. 

"I didn't say that,” Maca replies. “I said that you _get_ weak. For me. And I like it.” 

“I don’t get weak.”

“Want me to prove it?” Macarena’s eyes sparkle with a challenge. 

That’s how she ends up on top of Zulema, although there’s no heat between them. It turns into a lazy makeout session instead. When Macarena shifts and presses her thigh in between the brunette’s legs, testing the waters, she feels that the older woman is definitely more turned on than she’d like to admit. It’s what Macarena does to her. 

“Let me just-“ the blonde reaches over and grabs a hair tie from her nightstand. She leans back and shakes her head in an attempt to untangle some of the curls and finally pulls them all together, making a quick bun on top of her head.

Zulema raises her eyebrows. “Now?” 

“Yes,” Maca replies, her voice soft and full of longing. She presses a kiss to Zulema’s collarbone, side of her neck, cheek and finally her lips. “I want you first. We can get ready after.” 

Zulema doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because Macarena is already kissing down her body and she feels her legs spread on their own accord. The blonde settles between her legs and tugs at Zulema’s underwear, pulling it down her legs before kissing her way back up her thighs. 

She doesn’t waste any more time and curls her hands around Zulema’s thighs, before giving her what she deserves.

 _“Oh.”_

Zulema lets out a soft, languid moan as she feels a tongue slowly dip inside of her before going back up again and finally setting a steady pace. Her hands automatically tangle in blonde hair; Macarena’s bun is already coming loose and strands of hair are falling in front of her face, but it doesn’t matter. She holds her wife exactly where she needs it; not that Macarena specifically needs the guidance, but the strong hands in her hair are always a welcome feeling and Zulema knows that. Macarena keeps up her pace while untangling one arm from her wife's thigh and slides two fingers inside of her, suddenly. 

“Fuck!”

Macarena hums her approval as the brunette moans again at the pleasurable sensations. No matter how many times she’s done this already, nothing will ever compare to the feeling of Zulema coming undone beneath her. Open, relaxed and trusting. For her and no one else. She feels Zulema’s hips press down into the mattress and watches through hooded eyelids how the brunette’s head goes all the way back, a telltale sign of her upcoming orgasm. 

Zulema goes completely silent for a few seconds, before she finally falls over the edge. Heels digging into the sheets and one hand wrapping around Macarena’s wrist to push her away and pull her closer at the same time.

“Maca!” 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Zulema has already taken a shower and is reading her book in the living space of their hotel room, when Macarena walks in. 

“What is this?” she asks, holding up a piece of paper. 12 Avenue des Spélugues, it reads in Zulema’s handwriting.

The brunette looks up from where she’s sitting in the corner of the room and recognizes what her wife is holding immediately. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s for dinner tomorrow night. I found a place.” 

“Why?” Macarena frowns. “I thought you wanted to stay here in the hotel.”

“We can stay here tonight, but tomorrow is our last evening,” Zulema finishes. She tries to focus on her book again, but it seems Macarena isn’t done just yet. 

“Where are we going?” she asks curiously. 

“You’ll see.”

“Zulema. Tell me.”

The brunette rolls her eyes and looks up again, pressing her lips together in an attempt to silently express her annoyance. 

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“Stop asking so many questions.” 

Zulema turns to her book once more and Macarena falls silent. She turns the piece of paper over and over between her fingers while Zulema turns the page of her book. She remains standing in the middle of the room for a few more seconds, deciding that she probably should shut up now, but she’s too curious. 

“Why can’t you just-”

“If you interrupt my reading once more, this book will become a lethal weapon,” Zulema threatens without so much as lifting her eyes from the paper. 

Macarena takes this as a serious warning and holds up her hands as a silent apology, already making her way back into the bedroom. 

After some relaxing in their hotel room, the two women decide to go out again. Small streets, a bright sun and a soft breeze, everything is perfect on their second to last day here. They spend the biggest part of the day outside and end up doing what Zulema had planned for them; a small dinner served by room service in their own hotel room, while watching a movie on the television hanging on the wall. 

The next and final day, they decide to go to a casino - not for a robbery this time - and spend their time playing roulette and blackjack. Casino de Monte Carlo is the most famous casino of Monaco and it’s fairly busy, even during the day. The two women have a good time nevertheless, although Macarena mainly enjoys watching Zulema play against older men who don’t seem impressed by her at all. Until she wins. They look utterly shocked. 

Macarena kisses her on the lips, in front of everyone. “You’re the best,” she mumbles.

“I know,” Zulema flashes a cocky smile and rests her hand in the small of Macarena’s back, urging her to walk. “We have to go. We have a reservation at eight.” 

That’s how they end up at the address Macarena found yesterday. It turns out to be a rooftop bar and restaurant with spectacular views of the city. They are greeted by a well-dressed waiter at the entrance. 

“Bonsoir, bienvenue au restaurant Horizon Deck. Comment puis-je vous aider?”

Zulema looks at Macarena with a confused expression. _Help._

“The guy on the phone didn’t speak … this,” she motions. 

Macarena shakes her head. _Don’t worry,_ her eyes read. She steps forward and makes eye contact with the waiter. “Bonsoir,” she starts. “Nous avons une réservation.”

“Quel nom?”

Macarena turns to her wife. “Name, yours or mine?”

“Mine,” Zulema replies, awestruck. Macarena speaks French? 

“Zahir,” the blonde turns back to face the waiter. “Une réservation pour deux. Ma femme vous a appelé hier.” 

The waiter checks his list and nods. “Tout est arrangé,” he replies and writes something next to their names on the paper. “Suivez-moi, s’il vous plaît.” 

They follow him to their table; Zulema has managed to get them a table on the side of the terrace, meaning that they have the best possible view. Macarena is so amazed by the sun slowly starting to set, spreading a soft glow over the entire city, that she almost forgets to eat her food. 

“ _Rubia,_ ” Zulema points at her place. “Eat.” 

Macarena makes eye contact and gets helplessly lost into deep green eyes again. Zulema’s eyes have always been one of her biggest weaknesses, but seeing them in the evening sun with a hint of that _i love you_ sparkle in them has Macarena falling even harder. She reaches out over the table to hold Zulema’s hand in hers for a few seconds, silently expressing her love, before continuing to eat her dinner.

In between their main course and dessert, a waiter stops next to their table. He’s holding a bouquet of roses and looks back and forth between the two women.

“Macarena Ferreiro?” 

The blonde frowns and throws a look at Zulema before turning to the waiter. 

“Yes, that’s me.” 

“Ah,” he hands her the small bouquet and smiles. “From your wife.” 

Macarena thanks him, although her eyes are already on Zulema. She waits until the waiter is gone again before she shakes her head incredulously. 

“You did this?” 

Zulema nods. She seems shy, almost. 

“I know you’d rather be in South America or whatever part of the world right now. I just wanted to stay close to home, and I appreciate you coming here with me.”

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Macarena interrupts. “I don’t care about the countries. This is just as perfect as anything else could’ve been.” 

Silence falls between them for a few seconds as they study each other’s face. 

“So that’s why you were nervous,” Macarena mentions eventually. 

“I wasn’t _nervous._ ”

“Yes, you were. Your leg has been bouncing throughout this entire dinner.” 

“Fine. I just …,” Zulema trails off. 

_What? I just wanted you to like it? Wanted you to like me?_

“I do,” Macarena answers the unspoken question and gently puts the flowers down. “Of course I do. And I actually have something for you too.” 

She reaches into her purse for the thing she’s been carrying around all day. She didn’t necessarily mean to give it right now, but the moment is perfect.

Zulema watches her curiously as Macarena takes something out of her purse. It’s small, about the size of a printed photograph.

She quickly finds out that’s exactly what it is. 

Macarena hands the photograph over to Zulema, who takes it with a curious expression. 

“What’s this?” 

“You,” Maca replies. “In Egypt.”

Zulema studies the photograph. It _is_ her, sitting on the balcony of their apartment in Egypt. In the background, you can just make out the sun setting behind the buildings, and Zulema recognizes it as the sunset on their last evening. She sees herself sitting in the chair, knees pulled up to her chest. 

“When did you take this?” 

“Right after I got out of the shower,” Macarena answers. “You looked so peaceful and I hadn’t taken a good picture of you just yet.” 

Zulema is quiet. She alternates between looking at the printed photograph and her wife’s face - eyes, lips, collarbones - and finds that she doesn’t know what to say.

“I had it printed earlier,” Maca explains further. “When I was out getting sunscreen and new water bottles. And I wanted you to have it.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Zulema finds herself saying. Her own choice of words initially startles her, because she’s never really considered herself beautiful. But Macarena has always seen her in a different light, from a different angle and in different ways. This picture is a perfect representation of that.

The photograph gives Zulema a glimpse of how she's perceived by her wife. Although she’s just one individual in a very big world, it seems the photo revolves around her and her only. Macarena has made sure that Zulema, sitting in her chair, is placed in the center of the photo. The focus is on her and the sun setting outside, whereas the door frame and walls inside the apartment are a lot darker. She is the most important thing in this photograph, and Zulema can only hope that this represents her role in Macarena's life as well. 

The waiter comes by once again, with their dessert this time. The menu listed all kinds of fancy desserts, but the two women simply asked for ice cream. It’s their last day here and they both wanted ice cream. Fuck the menu. 

“Merci,” Macarena thanks him, before turning to Zulema again. “You should let me take photos of you more often. You’re really beautiful.”

Zulema squirms in her seat, still not used to being called beautiful by the blonde. She feels a light blush forming on her cheeks.

“Shut up,” she counters, although there’s no anger in her voice. “Go eat your ice cream.” 

Macarena obeys with a knowing smile on her face. 

That’s how they finish their trip; on a rooftop bar in Monaco, with ice cream for dessert and a gorgeous sunset to look at while they replay the events of the past few months in their heads. Zulema has her photograph, Macarena has her bouquet of roses. The most important thing, however, is that they will always have each other. No matter the time or place, no matter how big the distance between them as individuals or between them as a duo and their home in Madrid. Zulema has discovered that now, during this trip. Everything feels like home when Macarena is next to her. And if the look in Macarena’s eyes is anything to go by, it seems that the blonde has realized the exact same thing as well. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end. ✨🖤


End file.
